


How Did We End Up Like This?

by Bozot



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Modernish Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bozot/pseuds/Bozot
Summary: What if Cintra fell a decade earlier? What if our favourite found family found each other sooner than expected? If Netflix can play around with the timelines so can I. Resulting in a slightly different retelling of the witcher saga including some new adventures and a lot of fluff and angst.A mash up of the book, games and show lore in a modernish AU setting.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia de Vries & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered how it would play out if Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri had the opportunity to have some time together as a family before the whole events of the saga happened. But I did not find any fitting fanfic to read, so I had to write it on my own. Somehow it also turned out to be set in this strange half modern time. So, enjoy (or not) my first fanfic.

_29 th September 1952, 20 kilometres south of Sodden Hill_

“And then these fucking bastards attacked Sodden Hill, as if the devastation they caused in Cintra wasn’t enough. But they did not expect our brave mages. No one expected them, to be honest. But twenty-two of the finest members of the Northern Brotherhood of Sorcerers came to protect the people of Sodden and help them defeat the gazillions of Nilfgaardian soldiers.” Yurga continued on with his ramblings about the battle that took place only days ago. 

However, Geralt only paid him half a mind, as he himself had his head full of other things. The fact that he had probably just met his long-lost mother, his still aching injuries from the fight with the pack of nekkers or the fact that he just lost a child surprise he was not yet sure he ever wanted to claim. His mind was full of thoughts on circumstances he now had to come to terms with. 

Cintra had fallen and there were no survivors. Had he been there a few days earlier, the heir to Cintra's throne might still be alive. But what would he even do with a little child? He did not know anything about parenting. Also, he never wanted nor even considered it as part of his life before he so stupidly called the law of surprise. Still, he had a strange feeling in his gut he wasn’t sure he could name. It might have been guilt or sadness or a combination of many different feelings. But he did not want to dwell on it. Witchers were not supposed to feel complex human emotions. 

“.. it is sad though that so many of them have fallen. Fourteen out of twenty-two, that is more than half of them. The newspapers and the people are already calling them the _Fourteen of the Hill_. They are talking about raising them an Obelisk in their honour. So they can forever be remembered. I tell you every man and every child will forever remember their names.”

That roused the Witcher’s attention and he stopped in his musing as his heart stuttered a beat. With apprehension he asked the one question whose answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, “Do you know the names of the fourteen mages?” 

“Let’s see there was Axel Raby, Triss Merigold, Atlan Kerk, Vanielle of Brugge, Dagobert of Vole—”

“Stop, Yurga.”

“What’s the matter, sir? You’re as pale as death and that’s saying something, considering in which state I found you.”

“Nothing, but could we drive up to the battle site?”, the witcher was suddenly filled with a feeling of dread and deep down he knew what he would find up on the hilltop. Still, he needed to see it with his own eyes and confirm his worst fears.

* * *

As they were driving towards the battle site the air in the merchant’s beat-up truck was getting warmer and warmer. Soon the warm air was accompanied by the stench of soot and ash. The closer they got to the outpost on the top of Sodden Hill the clearer it became how gruesome the whole battle truly had been. The fields around them were burnt down to the ground and one could easily recognise the remnants of charred up corpses in different uniforms. People were walking around and searching for possible survivors. However, Geralt imagined that there was little to no chance of someone surviving such a devastating outburst of fire, especially as it was clear that it was caused by a strong magical source. 

When they approached a roadblock Geralt stepped out of the merchant’s vehicle without a word and started to make his way towards the tents. They were raised only in the last two days after the battle ended and now housed the many injured and crippled that did not have room in the base itself. At the edge of the camp stood a big noticeboard. The Witcher limbed towards the board without hearing any noises around him. He saw the list of names of the fallen people that were identified up until now and right next to it there was a shorter listed pined up. Written on the top were a few short words of gratitude to all the fallen mages. Geralt read the names of them slowly. One by one and with each line he thought about the face of the ones he knew. Triss Merigold, Lawdbor of Murivel, Lytta Neyd, Old Gorazd. He stopped before he could read the last name.

All his life death had followed on his every footsteps. Geralt would never deny that he had always been afraid of it. Always afraid of the terror he would feel if he’d see death following him. Living in fear, up until that very moment he stood on the hilltop and realised that death had taken everything from him. He read the last name and dropped to his knees murmuring the name he had spoken so often in his lifetime. By day, and night, frost, sun and rain…

_Yennefer of Vengerberg_

“Oi, Geralt, sir! Why did you run off like that? If you wanted to know the names, I could just tell them.” Yurga came up behind the kneeling Geralt and looked at the list the Witcher was just staring at. Geralt got out of his stupor and glanced towards the approaching merchant. 

“Tell me Yurga, the fourteenth of the hill, what is the name?” 

“You an odd fella, sitting in front of the names and asking such questions. The last one is Yoël Grethen of Carreras. Perhaps you knew him?”

Geralt’s eyes shoot up and true to Yurga’s word the last name one the list - Yoël Grethen of Carreras – stood on the list clear as day. “No, I didn’t.” And for the first time in what felt like days Geralt took in a shaky breath of relief.

* * *

She saw him the moment he fell to his knees. A person of his statue crumbled into the tiny shell of an utterly defeated man. She did not need to hear the repeated mutterings of her name to know who he was. Even if Yennefer was always restrictive with the amount of information she shared, the songs written by a certain singer gave a pretty good description of the famous White Wolf. Kneeling on the dirty ground with his destroyed clothing, however, he did not look at all like the mighty warrior from the catchy tunes. She took a short moment to contemplate if approaching him was the right decision, but in the moment every help was appreciated. 

“Geralt of Rivia?”

The witcher was in the process of standing up when a rather short but extremely authoritative woman addressed him. He immediately knew that the woman was one of the remaining sorceresses and if the way in which she strode towards Geralt was any indication, one with a high position in the hierarchy of the brotherhood or at least immense arrogance clinging to her. Although this seemed to be a prerequisite if he considered all the sorcerers and sorceresses he knew.

“Yes, and who might you be?”

“Tissaia de Vries, rectoress of Aretuza. Might I speak to you in private?” the sorceresses’ suggestion might have been formulated as a question, but her tone did not leave any room to reject the offer. Without waiting for an answer, the woman turned around and headed to a tent in the far corner of the camp. 

Although Geralt did not mean to stay at the battleground longer than required something in the sorceresses’ behaviour seemed oddly familiar and it piqued his curiosity. He gave a nod to Yurga and followed her into the tent. It did not surprise him when his medallion vibrated against his chest as he entered. 

“Don’t worry the spell just makes sure that no one from the outside can listen in to our conversation.”

“And what is so important that we would need soundproofing for this little chat of ours?”

The rectoress raised an eyebrow which suggested that the answer was so apparent that the question in itself was rather stupid. 

“Yennefer, of course. Or is she not the reason you are here all along?”

Geralt did not know what it was about the woman in front of him, but in just a few short moments of knowing her she succeeded in making him feel like a schoolboy who never did his homework properly. 

_So, she is here, or at least was here? How does she know I am here because of her? And why do we need soundproofing to discuss her?_ Geralt did not voice the questions but was sure that the sorceress was nevertheless aware of what was going on in his mind. 

“Although Yennefer has not told me much about your romance, it is quite clear that the two of you have a special kind of bond. Not everybody stomps into a warzone just to make sure that their loved ones have survived, especially if you have not seen each other in what, three years now? Unfortunately, Yennefer might not yet be on the list of the fallen, but she is not far behind -” 

“Where is she?” 

“I had to shield her; she is not safe.”

Of course, this was not the answer the witcher wanted to hear, nevertheless she continued speaking without a pause.

“The fight lasted three days. Both sides were incredibly powerful, and the fight dragged on and on. We had our strategies and tactics, but so did the Nilfgaardians. After days of constant combat, it seemed that the additional troops from the Northern Kingdoms would arrive too late. Our defences were broken through and the count of dead humans and mages rose by the hour. It all looked like our fight was for nothing and that also the remaining ones would soon fall by the hands of the enemy.”

The sorceress averted his gaze and fixed her eyes on a random cabinet next to the witcher.

“The charred-up land? You certainly drove through it when you came here - that was Yennefer. Yennefer alone did this to the Nilfgaardian army and saved us all. She used all her remaining energy and lit up half the land around us. Nobody could survive – “

“Where is she?” he said in an almost threatening tone. Geralt had enough of the emotionless recounting of the rectoress. He needed to get to Yennefer and see for himself what the rectoress avoided telling him. 

The rectoress sighed and avoided his eyes, “Follow me, but be warned she is in a critical condition, and the circumstances here don’t make her recovery any easier.”

She turned towards the opening of the tent and this time waited for the witcher to follow. The two walked past the medical station and headed to the second floor of the outpost where most offices were located. When Tissaia opened a door for the witcher to enter, his medallion unsurprisingly reacted again, but as he looked into the room, he only saw an old supply closet. 

He was already in the process of turning towards the sorceress and leaving a snarky remark when she held up a hand in a sign of silence. After she spoke a short incantation the room changed. In the middle of the small room stood a hospital bed with an incredibly small looking body inside. There were several tubes attached to her, cuts and bruises littered her body and her skin was glowing with a thin layer of sweat. Geralt slowly limbed towards the left side of the bed to get a better look.

If someone had told him the day before that the possibility to see the great Yennefer of Vengerberg all broken, beaten-down and small existed, Geralt would probably laugh it off and tell that person that they just did not know her well enough. Yennefer was always in control of every situation she stepped into. And if she wasn’t, she at least was able to fool everyone by playing a certain part. But right in that moment she could not fool anyone.

All Geralt wanted was to offer her comfort, even if her conscious self would probably never let him. He reached for her hand but was immediately staggered by how warm it was. Not just warm, her otherwise notoriously cold hands could probably burn him if he held on to them too long. Just then he noticed that her eyes were bandaged as well. Not bearing to look at her broken form any longer he turned toward Tissaia and asked what happened.

“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted: Yennefer let her chaos explode and turned the battle in our favour again. She did not only turn it, she won it for us. The remaining Nilfgaardian troops were so few that it was a mere matter of minutes before those would fall as well. But as you know magic comes at a cost and Yennefer drew her power for this last effort from the element of fire, which is the most dangerous of the Four Elements. That she survived the magnitude of her chaos is a miracle on itself. However, the Nilfgaardians or rather their arch-sorceress did not give up at once. She knew that Yennefer was the one who caused the fire and thus she wanted to take revenge. Our defences were pretty low by then and she could easily track Yennefer as nobody had the power to shield themselves or anyone else for that matter anymore. Just as Yennefer was on her lowest point, she found her and wanted to make her suffer. I was in the vicinity but could not use my magic as I was poisoned with dimeritium earlier in the battle. I tried to stop her, but without my abilities as a conduit I could not do much. She managed to blind Yennefer and only in that moment I was able to use the last reserves of my power to bring Yennefer to safety.”

For the first time the witcher truly looked at the sorceress Tissaia de Vries. Although her tone was cold and detached her eyes spoke a completely different story. They showed suffering, worry and love, but they were still so guarded that only a few would ever be able to see. It reminded him a lot of the person lying in the hospital bed. After truly looking at Tissaia he also noticed that her magical aura was still dampened from the dimeritium attack. That her bruises and cuts where not properly healed yet, which was probably due to the fact she used what little amount of magic she could handle to treat others. He saw that her elegant pose was barely held up with all the energy she had left. That even showing him Yennefer and voicing her own failures took a huge amount of pride to overcome, but that she would do anything to help her student, even though Yennefer has long fallen out of grace with the Brotherhood.

“What happened then? You said Yen is not safe, what do you mean?”

“What happened immediately afterwards, I don’t know. I passed out and when I came to myself the Nilfgaardians were already left running. And no, Yennefer is not safe and probably will not be for quite some time. As long as she has not properly healed, she has a big target on her back. No one would dare come after her under normal circumstances, but right now every Nilfgaardian and also every other enemy she made in her lifetime knows that she can’t defend herself. Now is the perfect time to take revenge on Yennefer of Vengerberg.” 

“That’s why you are shielding our conversation from possible eavesdroppers and why you are keeping her hidden in a storage room. Why don’t you just heal her and keep her in a safe place until she gets back to strength?” 

“Well, that is the reason I approached you in the first place. It seems that she developed some kind of resistance to magical treatments through her overdose of the fire element. Everything we tried to heal her made the situation worse. However, we also do not know of any conventional ways of treating the aftermaths of her magic use, because there are no precedents for these kinds of magnitudes. We could at least heal some of the wounds that were suffered from conventional weapons. But it is still not much. We put her in a coma to give her body time to regenerate itself, like with a dimeritium poisoning in which case rest is the only remedy. I hope that she can pull through. She has always been a fighter, but this might prove to be too much for her. And as much as it pains me to say I can’t keep her safe on my own. My powers are limited right now. Even if I tried to portal her to a safe place, the magic used might be too much to handle for her right now.” 

Tissaia stepped towards the unoccupied bedside and took Yennefer’s left hand into her own. She softly drew her thumbs over Yennefer’s knuckles and seemed to be lost in thought for a few moments.

“You want me to stay here and guard her?”, the witcher concluded. 

“Isn’t that what you want to as well?” Again, the rectoress reminded him all too much of the woman lying next to him, fighting for her life in an artificially induced sleep. Answering a question with another question usually grated on his nerves, but in that moment, he couldn’t find anything in himself to argue or disagree. 

“I will go talk to Yurga and get my few belongings. Will I be able to enter this room once I leave it?”

The sorceress gave him a curt nod and with that he was on his way to gather his gear from the merchant’s truck and go back to the only place in the world that made sense to him right now.

* * *

When he returned with his duffel bag Tissaia was still in Yennefer’s room. She was in the process of mixing a salve and applying it on Yennefer’s heated skin. He threw his bag into one corner and readied a chair to sit beside the incapacitated sorceress’s right side.

“Do you have any more information on possible attackers? What can I expect?”

“If I would know what to expect I wouldn’t need your help, would I?” the sorceress replied without taking her eyes of Yennefer. “I shielded this room and Yennefer’s presence from all detection spells and scans that I know off. However, as already mentioned, the usage of magic does impact her recovery negatively and my powers are not always as steady as one would hope for in a situation like this. If anybody is or will be able to detect her the only way in is through the door you already used thrice.” 

While she was talking, she applied the salve on every bruise and cut and then proceed to check on her IV-drop and the machines that were connected to Yennefer’s body.

“As for who we might expect, Nilfgaardian soldier, agents or mages are the most obvious attackers one would think of. But there are many who might wish to harm or get rid of Yennefer. Beside you nobody else knows where she is held. After the medics have done what they could, I tended to her being brought to safety. Most seem to think that I have portaled her somewhere far away and came back to help with the dealings after the battle, however, some might suspect that she is still on the premises.” 

While Tissaia was speaking Geralt started to prepare his gear. He put on his holster and slid his revolver with silver bullets into his right side, while his semi-automatic Glock was put in the other side. He never had been particularly enthusiastic about guns, but he had to concede that they had an advantages in situations where velocity and distance between you and your enemy was of essence. Afterwards he pulled out his swords and leaned them on to the wall nearest to the chair he prepared for himself. 

Tissaia looked at the witcher preparing his whole armoury for possible attacks. For the first time she was convinced that she made the right decision in telling him about her student. If there was anyone on earth more willing to protect Yennefer of Vengerberg than Tissaia herself, it could only be the witcher sitting in front of her, notoriously reading himself as if going into a battle between life and death. And in that moment it became clear that he would most certainly choose death before letting Yennefer befall any more harm. 

“So, what do we do now? Sit and wait?” Geralt ask after he adequately prepared himself.

“Yes, witcher, now we do exactly that. We sit and wait.”

* * *

It took five days of sitting and waiting before their peace was interrupted. Five days in which he sat by Yennefer’s side day and night. Tissaia left the two alone during the days as she had to tend to other things going on outside the room. But every night she would sit beside Yennefer in the uncomfortable chair and guard her.

After the second day Tissaia insisted that Geralt took a shower and get some rest. Reluctantly he left the disguised storage room to get himself clean. However, he came back to the room immediately after washing himself with the intent to further stand guard. After some persistent and scolding words from the rectoress which urged him to get some sleep, he conceded to taking a nap on the floor beside Yennefer’s bed without as much as a pillow to lay his head upon. 

On the third day Tissaia managed to cramp a little cot into the already small room Yennefer was occupying. It was far from the luxurious beds the two sorceresses were normally used to. Still, the small cot proved to be way more comfortable then the chairs standing on either side of Yennefer’s hospital bed. 

On the fourth day, after several long debates about self-care and the benefit of being if not well-rested than at least an a-little-rested human being, the witcher even succeeded in convincing Tissaia herself to use the cot on occasion as well.

On the fifth night their routine was disrupted. Then again not by some enemies trying to attack, but rather by Yennefer herself. Without any warning her body violently spasmed and her skin started to heat up as if she was about to start throwing flames again. The air in the small room was getting hotter and hotter before the two even had a chance to think of a possible solution. Her unconscious body started to prepare for an attack and both Geralt and Tissaia could feel that her hands were getting ready for a magical outburst. Without really knowing what to do the witcher grabbed both of her hands to try to prevent any spell from being formed. 

In that moment Tissaia was pulled into Yennefer’s mind, because Yennefer suddenly started projecting her thoughts as if she was crying for help. The distraught thoughts captured Tissaia’s mind for a moment before she understood what was going on and ran to the cabinet beside the door. 

“What’s going on? What is happening to her?” Geralt shouted as he was struggling to keep Yennefer’s trashing body still. Her skin starting to burn his hands where they pinned her arms down to the mattress. 

“Just hold her as still as possible! Where in hell is that damned thing?” Tissaia replied as she was frantically searching through the drawers. Keeping Yennefer still was becoming harder by the second. The air around her became laden with magic and the machines she was connected to started to produce irritating noises.

“Tissaia!” 

“Got it!” Just when the room started to smell of burned skin the rectoress turned around and ran towards the hospital bed with a syringe in her hand. Without further ado she jabbed the syringe into Yennefer’s thigh and within seconds her body started to calm down and was soon lying as tranquil as just few minutes before. The witcher held on to her for a few moments longer than strictly needed, before withdrawing his burned hands.

“What was that?” 

“It seems that her subconscious mind reached a state of panic that was somehow not subdued by the anaesthetics which were supposed to keep her in this comatose state. She was having a kind of nightmare and she relived the final moments of the battle. It looks like she still has to much magical residue from her absorption of the fire element in her system. I gave her another sedative to calm her restless mind down.” Tissaia replied as she was checking on Yennefer and the attached machines. When she was satisfied inspecting the medical equipment, she turned back to the witcher and commanded: 

“Show me your hands!”

“It’s nothing” the witcher did not know why he did not want to show his injured hands, but he withdrew them, nevertheless. 

“Nonsense! You were burnt to the point the room stenches of your burned flesh. Now show me your hands, witcher, or I will make you do it.” 

The rectoress left no room for arguments and so the witcher stretched his hand towards the sorceress. Opening his palms to be inspected by the sorceress, he only just realised the extent of the burn. If the slight grimace of the sorceress was any indication, she did not expect such a nasty wound either. However, Geralt’s eyes were drawn past his trembling hands to the bed underneath them.

“How is it that I was burnt while I touched her, but the bed and the sheets did not even warm up a little bit during her outburst?” 

Having looked at his wounds enough, Tissaia stepped to the cabinets to mix up a salve for the witcher’s hands. “You of all people should know that magic does not affect everything in the same way. In our case the supernatural heat Yennefer emitted just reacted to living organisms. It did heat up the air around us and burned your skin, but none of the medical equipment or any other inanimate object was damaged by it.” 

She turned back to the witcher and applied the salve before muttering an incantation that left his hands prickling and his wounds healing. They stood in silence for a few minutes, contemplating their situation, before Geralt spoke again.

“If this happens again, it will get easier to track her down, won’t it? Even if they are shielded such outbursts leave a noticeable mark on magic scanners. The tracking technologies are becoming better by day. She won’t be safe here for long, am I right?”

“No, if this should happen again, we will have to move as fast as possible. Though I fear that we have to prepare an escape plan of conventional means. An escape through a portal would probably destroy all the little progress she made, and I fear that it would leave her blinded for ever.” 

At that, the witcher looked up into the worried eyes of the rectoress. 

“I thought the Nilfgaardian sorceress blinded her with a conventional dagger.”

“With a dagger, yes. But it was by no means conventional. The blade was forged through a combination of silver and dimeritium and it has the intent to make all magical creatures who have the displeasure of getting into contact with it suffer. That is why I cannot heal her eyes right now and why more magical use would only make the injuries worse.”

Geralt felt that every time the rectoress opened her mouth just more bad news came out. Up until that point he just though that she did not tend to Yennefer’s eyes because she was too exhausted to work with magic on such complicated things as the human eye. But the reality was of course always grimmer than what he imagined. As if reading his mind, the rectoress continued with a softer voice. 

“This outburst brought one good thing though. It proved that by letting her body recover on her own, she is fighting her way through this overdose of chaos. Even if it happens way slower than I would hope for.”

* * *

They had three days to prepare for their departure from the outpost at Sodden Hill. When Yennefer started to show the same symptoms as a few days earlier, the syringe with the additional sedative was already at hand and as soon as she calmed down the rectoress of Aretuza and the White Wolf started their plan of action. 

Under the disguise of a masking spell and the pretence of a supply transport they snuck Yennefer out of the campsite and into a truck Tissaia managed to plant on an unnoticed location. After a few stops while driving out of the guarded battle site they managed to get on the highway and drive towards the north without a hitch.

After a few hours of driving Geralt dared to speak again. 

“This doctor of yours, are you certain he is trustworthy?”

“No one is really trustworthy in times of war. But he will be helpful in facilitating the healing process of Yennefer’s eyesight and that will hopefully allow us to use magic and thus make it easier to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

“And you really think the only safe place for her, is the one place she hates the most?”

“Do you have any better idea?” the sorceress asked him a tad annoyed. “Because as much as she does not like Aretuza, the school is under my supervision, nothing happens there without me knowing it. There is no way of entering the school without me allowing it. It is the only place on the continent where I can guarantee you that she will be safe.”

“No, I don’t.” he reluctantly agreed, and he truly could not think of any better place, although he had tried to find a better alternative for the last few days. “Still she won’t like it that we took her to the place she absolutely loathes the most.” He muttered while directing the vehicle in the direction of the meeting point with the doctor.

* * *

They met the physician in a large room on the third floor of an office building in Maribor. As it was a Sunday the building was empty, but the room had already been prepared for a surgical procedure. While the doctor, Tissaia and a nurse operated in the office area Geralt stood guard before the door. For two and a half hours the three remained in the office turned surgery room while Geralt secured every possible entry point. After the procedure was finished the nurse called him in and told him that the surgery has been a success. While the doctor and the nurse packed up their things, the witcher stepped beside the rectoress and started to whisper only just audible.

“How much did you pay the doctor?” he whispered.

Without giving any visible reaction she replied with the same volume, but with a barely restrained irritation “What kind of question is this?”

The witcher started to look out of the window and continued. “It was obvious not enough because on the other side of the building there are two cars which have been standing there for the last hour and their four occupants have been staring at the window of the operation room for the same amount of time. On the roof top diagonally across a sniper set his aim approximately 10 minutes ago and if I had to guess a tactical unit is setting up on the ground floor of the neighbouring building waiting for the signal of the medic that should leave this building any minute now.”

Tissaia decided for this to be the best moment to switch their conversation on to a telepathic level.

_“What do you suggest?”_

_“There is only one way out without causing at least a dozen casualties. Is she stable enough to be portaled out of here?”_

_“It is not optimal, but she should be able to handle being portaled once. I thought you hated portals, witcher.”_

_“There are situations were personal preferences should not intervene. This is one of them.”_

_“And the doctor?”_

_“We let him get out of here to not rouse any suspicion and hope that you can get a refund.”_

Simultaneously Geralt and Tissaia turned around to give the nurse and the doctor their greetings.

Three and a half minutes later the medical stuff stepped out of the building and gave the waiting agents their signal. 

One minute and twenty second later the tactical unit burst through the door of the office room but found nothing more than a few left behind surgical supplies.

* * *

When she came to herself, she was not even sure she was still alive. Somehow everything hurt and at the same time she could not feel anything. When she focused all hear energy into hearing, he could make out some voices debating with each other.

_“Haven’t we been through this enough times already? She is safe here and you need to rest. You have not slept properly for more than a week and even before that your general health situation was far from being fine.”_

_“This is more than just a little hypocritical from the woman who almost killed herself by portaling three people all the way to Aretuza, even though she is still suffering from a dimeritium poisoning and is now refusing to get some sleep herself”_

_“That woman is…”_

But before she could hear anything more her consciousness faded back to black.

.

.

.

The next time her thoughts were far more violent. She remembered the desperation she felt standing on the battlefield at Sodden Hill. To her left and her right fallen soldiers, but also fallen sorcerers and sorceresses. The view was horrifying it let her feel emotions she had long ago buried. Still, what truly made her knees weak was the sight of her mentor, her saviour lying on the grass broken and not able to go on. Never in her life had she seen Tissaia de Vries so shattered, she dragged herself and fell on her knees right next to the rectoress, hoping Tissaia could make all of this pain go away. Like a mother who puts a band-aid on the scraped knee of her child and kisses the wound to forget the injury all along. 

_“The sedative.”_

But instead of making everything better, the whole situation just became worse and the only thing left to do was letting the fire burn them down to the ground. She stood on that rock and stretch out her hands...

“ _Now!”_

It all seemed to drift back to black… Fringilla Vigo…

_“Watch out!”_

.

.

.

She felt as if all the energy in the world has left her. The only thing grounding her to reality were two big hands clasping hers. She knew these hands, ruff, with calluses, but always gentle when touching her. She focused on their joint hands and started to recognize a voice.

_“Geralt, she will be fine. I know it looked bad, but she actually is on the way of recovery. The doctors even suggest that we get her of the anaesthetics in the next few days.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“She is a fighter. You know it as much as I do.”_

.

.

.

Everything started to feel. Still numb but everything started to feel. Like she came out of hibernation.

_“So, you stopped using_ _anaesthetics. How long will it take before she wakes up?_

_“It should take approximately twenty-four hours. Maybe more, maybe less. We will see.”_

She heard the sound of a chair scrapping the floor.

_“You know you saved her. Don’t give me that look. I am not talking about the battle. Although you did save her there too. No, I was talking about her time here, or actually even before she came here… Yen is not always the best sharer, but she told me some things about her time here. She might not have mentioned your name, but the few not bad things she told me were mostly about you.”_ The male voice paused for a moment, reaching for the hand that was not occupied by the rectoress. He traced the scars on her wrist when he continued.

_“You did not let her die twice already and if it ever came to a third time, we both know that the situation would not be any different.”_

_“It is just what anyone would do.”_

_“Not true. But it is what every good mother would say.”_

_._

_._

_._

_“You really want to go? You looked over her all this time and now hours before she wakes up you just leave?”_

_“I know you don’t believe me, but she would not want me to be here.”_

_“Pardon me, but that is bullshit. I did not approach you, just to leave before she even wakes up.”_

_“My job was to keep her safe. She is in the safest place on the continent now and she needs peace and quiet to be able to recover. If I am here, she will not have that.”_

_“You are just as stubborn as she is.”_

He pressed a soft kiss onto her forehead and whispered into her ear.

_“I knew you would make it, Yen.”_

_._

_._

_._

When she finally awakes, he is long gone. As her unfocused eyes open for the first time in two weeks she needs a few seconds to adjust to brightness of the dimly lit room. But soon she is able to recognize a familiar figure with a warm smile on her face siting in the chair next to her bed. 

“Welcome back, piglet” 


	2. Chapter 1

_7 th January 1953, Oreton_

He did not know why he always said yes to the stupid missions of Yarpen and his crew. It always followed the same pattern and in the end, he felt like shit and he had barely earned enough to last for another week of basic groceries. He had to look out for real witcher contracts and thus bought a sandwich and three newspapers with big enough ad-pages on his way back to the motel room. Sitting on the uncomfortable bed he read the headlines of the three newspapers while munching on his dinner for the night.

_War heroin Yennefer of Vengerberg ready for her next adventures_

_Lady Vengerberg’s recovery back to full strength – How the saviour of Sodden Hill regained her health and vigour_

_Sorceress, warrior, hero: Yennefer of Vengerberg and the painful battle of Sodden Hill_

So, it seemed that Tissaia succeeded in organising a big PR campaign to let everyone know that they don’t stand a chance against Yen anymore. As much as Geralt knew the two sorceresses the younger one probably firmly objected to this media attention. At least she got her way in not printing any pictures of her. Despite what people thought Yennefer liked attention only when it helped her achieve an objective, otherwise she preferred to remain hidden from the public eye. The witcher concluded that this onslaught of media coverage surely was something designed by the chapter or the council of the Brotherhood and Yen just reluctantly agreed to it.

His musings were brought to a halt when there was a sudden knock at the door. He did not expect anyone, and nobody should even know where he was residing at the moment. Cautiously he made his way over to the door, readying his hunting knife in his belt and taking his gun in his hand. He opened the door and held the gun to a face he never thought he would see again.

“Mousesack?”

The druid looked a little bit haggard and did not take the gun to his face well. “Is this how you greet all your friends, Geralt? It would explain why you have so few.”

The witcher took a step back and let the visitor into his room. “I thought you were dead. They say there were no survivors in Cintra.”

“And still, here I am.”

He heard of the massacre in Cintra. Everybody heard of it and also about the fact that the Nilfgaardians took the city with such cruelty that not a single soul who still had a breath of air in their lungs was left to die by themselves in the streets. Thus, the witcher was sceptical of this friend standing in front of him. He did occupy the position of the royal advisor of Cintra for many years and Geralt was sure that Mousesack was in Cintra when the massacre occurred. He eyed him with sceptical glances and thought about all the possibilities on how the druid might have survived, but also how this person in front of him might not be his friend at all.

“Really, Geralt? Do you want me to drink out of a silver cup to prove that it is really me?”

Geralt did not speak a word but continued to look the visitor in the eyes.

“Wow, seriously? Ok, I don’t see one lying around here. So, will this suffice?” he took a handful of silver ammunition from Geralt’s desk and held it in front of his face without showing any signs of discomfort.

“How?” 

“Well for once, I am not a doppler, this makes handling silver a lot easier.”

The witcher was getting annoyed with the sarcastic remarks. “I meant how did you survive Cintra?”

The druid let out a long sigh and fell into the chair standing next to the desk. “You know that every royal court has a standard evacuation protocol. Of course, in such a well-planned attack the Nilfgaardians would know about this too. But before princess Cirilla was born queen Calanthe ordered to have a backup plan made in case of possible attacks on the royal family.”

“As I see this plan worked and brought you all to safety. So, where is the rest of the merry band of Cintrian royalty?”

“There was no time, Geralt. Nor was the plan perfect. They fended the intruders off as long as they could, so we could escape as unsuspiciously as possible. Eist and Calanthe died trying to secure their legacy- “ 

Before the druid could continue speaking a muffled cry could be heard out of Mousesack extraordinary thick winter jacket. Geralt’s eyes started to go wide and the realisation what was making that noise hit him hard.

“You smuggled the child out of Cintra and think the best place to bring it is here, to this shitty motel?”

“The goal is not a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere, but it is you. Calanthe’s last words were to bring her to you. She is your destiny.” The weeps were starting to get louder and Mousesack removed a small bundle with a crying six-month old baby from his jacket. The druid tried to calm her, while the witcher just stood there in shock. 

After a few minutes of coaxing the baby back to sleep the druid turned back around to the still ashen faced witcher. 

“I know that’s a lot to take in Geralt, but there is more to come, and you will have to snap out of this stupor.” The witcher looked him in the eyes and nodded still a little bit dazed, but at least slightly more ready to face whatever the druid was going to tell him. 

“I hate to throw this on to you without much of an early warning, but as you see the situation did not allow me to get in contact with anybody, before meeting you in person. Although it seems that everybody believes that the Cintrian royal family has been completely wiped out, I could not take any risks. For the last months I have been hiding myself and the little girl, while trying to figure out where on the face of the earth you were. You are a hard man to find, Geralt. But that might actually be an advantage.”

“What are you trying to tell me Mousesack?” The witcher had quite a good idea what was expected of him, but he would only believe it when it would be said to him in clear words. Words that would forever change his life.

“I brought her to you cause you two are linked by destiny. We did see what not honouring the law of surprise brought upon Calanthe and Cintra. Regardless of whether anybody already knows or will find out that she is still alive, you are the only person able to keep her safe.”

“So what? You want me to look over her. I hate to break it to you, but I am possibly the worst person to do this. I haven’t even held a child in decades. And the few times I had were not occasions I want to repeat. I am not suitable for being a guardian.”

It was unusual for a witcher to feel distraught, but in that moment, he was really close to feeling overwhelmed. The druid, however, saw this as the best opportunity to put the sleeping baby girl into the arms of the witcher.

“See, it is not that hard. You keep her warm, entertained, sated and you check that she has fresh diapers on. There is not much more to it.” The druid said, blatantly lying into the witcher’s face. However, Geralt could not think of any good reply, as he was busy with trying to not wake up the small bundle in his arms.

Mousesack saw this as a perfect opportunity to stand up and make his way towards the door.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Where are you going?” the witcher whisper shouted.

“I have to go get Ciri’s stuff out of my car. Believe me you do not want to be stuck with her when she wakes up hungry and you do not have a bottle at the ready.” Geralt watched Mousesack leave the room and started to wonder how his life could have taken such a dramatic turn. 

An hour ago he was just a lonesome witcher tired from all the work a war brought forth for a man of his profession and now it looked like he just became a parental figure to a six-month-old princess that should not even be alive. His head felt as though it was dealing with emotional whiplash. 

After ten minutes of trying to not do anything that could disrupt the little girl in his hands Mousesack finally returned with three bags strung over his left shoulder and a children’s car seat in his right hand. 

“This one has all of her clothes in them. It looks like a lot but believe me you will still manage to go through them in less than a week. I would advise you to maybe buy more when you can settle down somewhere. This bag has everything you might need for diaper changes and this one has everything concerning food and sleeping aids in them. There are several bottles, formula, pacifiers, and a teething ring, although she has not gotten her first tooth yet. It is due any moment now. Oh, and you will also find a suitable amount of money hidden in all of those bags. It should help you get by for the first months.” Mousesack explained while putting the bags down on the desk.

“And this is her most treasured possession.” He put the car seat down and took out a plush lion. 

“A lion? Isn’t that a little bit on the nose?” the witcher asked raising an eyebrow.

“It is a lioness and it was Calanthe’s and Eist’s first present to their grandchild. I fear it is the only thing Ciri has left of Cintra and her family.” The druid replied with sad eyes. 

“I am sorry for your loss, Ermion. I know you were close.” 

“Thank you, but it is the circle of life some are born and others dye, we cannot dwell on it as it is just the way the world works. It was like that before us and it will be like that long after we are gone.”

“Oh, look at that, there is the druid I know. I almost did not recognize you before under all the sarcasm and snark.” The witcher said with a corner of his mouth raised.

“I have to excuse myself for my behaviour earlier. It is good that you remain critical. But I am just so exhausted, hiding from everyone and additionally caring for a baby can at times be difficult. Nobody ever tells you how exhausting it is to be a parent.” The druid did indeed look to be apologetic.

“No one you know was ever a parent without three nannies at the ready to do most of their work.”

At that he left out a breathless laugh. “Fair point. It seems that the live on the court has mollycoddled me somewhat.”

After a few moments Geralt started to speak again.

“Um, do I have to hold it for the whole night or what do I do with the baby now?” Geralt asked after he noticed that Mousesack had no intention of taking the baby back into his arms.

“Just put her down in the car seat or on the bed. She is usually a good sleeper. After she finally falls asleep.”

The witcher carefully laid the little human down on his bed and sat next to her to assure that she would not roll down in her sleep. Once he was sure that nothing could happen, he turned his attention back to his friend.

“So, what is the plan now? We babysit the princess until her safety can be assured, or what? What do I do now?” Geralt asked with a subtle hint of hysteria in his voice.

“I hate to do this to you Geralt, but I will have to leave you two not later than the morning. And I fear there is no one or nowhere left for the princess other than you.” Mousesack said sincerely. 

“Please tell me you are kidding.” Despite his pleading he already knew deep down that his fate was sealed.

The druid stood up and looked at the sleeping baby on the bed. “Believe me, I would not mind staying with you two for a while, but the problem is that I don’t know if I have been followed or not, and it will look suspicious if I stay here for more than a night”

“Why are you so concerned of being followed? Do you really think that killing an heir to a fallen kingdom is worth this much trouble?”

“I truly don’t know. Some intelligence agents found intel about a Nilfgaardian plan to kidnap the princess shortly before the attack. It was clearly intending to capture her alive. The attack on Cintra happened just days after and they were extraordinary well prepared to enter the royal palace. That is why no one could flee, everybody was concerned with keeping the princess out of harms ways. The fact that Cirilla and I could flee was more thanks to good luck than any grand escape plans. Calanthe’s back up plan did have a fake princess organised to keep the real one out of the spotlight. But we can’t be sure that the Nilfgaardians truly bought the ruse.”

“If I summarise correctly, you have no clue if Calanthe’s plan worked and you don’t know if you are being followed or not, so you try to not leave a trail of breadcrumbs in case that someone is actually on your tail.”

The druid shrugged with his shoulders. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Great.” The witcher said, although he felt far from that. “Can you at least give me a crash course on six-month-old babies before you leave?”

Mousesack started to rummage in one of the three bags, before he emerged with a worn-out notebook.

“Everything I learned about her is in this notebook. Our routine is written in there, but there are also some emergency safehouses and bank accounts you can make use of. But I can’t guarantee how safe they really are in the end.”

Geralt took the notebook and flicked through its pages, as his eyes started to go wide.

“Ermion, you said handling a baby is nothing more than providing them food, sleep, diapers and entertainment. This notebook is at least 50 pages long!”

The druid started to look a little bit sheepish. “I will concede that not all entries are of the uttermost relevance. I think the little princess will not hold it against you when you put on her Monday outfit on a Wednesday. Although the romper does say that she hates Mondays, and it makes little sense when you put it on on any other day.”

* * *

_22 nd January, Novigrad _

“So, let me just check the mail and then we will go and make you a nice bottle of formula. And then hopefully you and I can get the nap we both deserve.” he told the little girl in his left arm, while checking the contents of his mailbox with his right. 

Although two weeks have passed since Mousesack dropped her off unexpectantly, Geralt would still not claim that the two had any semblance of a routine. At least the two started to get along better after the initial tearful days of getting to know each other. 

The first week mostly consistent of Ciri crying at the unknown face and Geralt becoming more and more desperate in his attempts to calm the baby down. Furthermore, the two had to relocate several times before Geralt found a place where they rented a home to an overwhelmed witcher and his accompanying six-month-old baby. 

He came to the conclusion that hiding in plain sight would probably be the best if they really were followed and so he searched for apartments in the continent’s biggest city – Novigrad. The apartment was neither big, nor luxurious, but the elderly couple that rented it out seemed happy enough to be able to provide them a roof over their heads and they did not have a problem with a baby crying during days and nights.

While fumbling with his keys to the apartment Ciri started to become restless and voiced her growing hunger. Geralt put the little princess in her highchair and dropped of the letters on the kitchen counter. When he turned around with the prepared bottle, he saw that Ciri somehow managed to get a hold of one of the letters and cheerfully started munching on it.

“I see I underestimated your hunger, but this is no excuse to eat paper, little girl.” He switched the letter in her mouth with the bottle he prepared and was suddenly hit by a whiff of lilac and gooseberries. Hurriedly he fumbled to open the slavered letter with his unoccupied hand and started to read the unmistakable sharp, angular handwriting.

 _Dear friend_

The witcher sighed loudly. He could bite his arse for the wording, but he did contemplate for two days on how to start the letter and decided upon _dear friend_ after Ciri started weeping again and his cry for help just needed to be send out.

_Dear friend,_

_your unexpected letter – which I received not quite three years after we last saw each other – has given me much joy._

_My joy is all the greater as war tends to bring along various rumours of sudden and violent deaths. It is a good thing that you have decided to disclaim them by writing to me. From your letter it appears that you have spent your days enjoying an uneventful life with nothing extraordinary happening. These days such a life is a real privilege, dear friend, and I am happy that you have managed to achieve it._

_I was touched by the sudden concern which you deigned to show as to my health, dear friend. I hasten with the news that, yes, I now feel well; the period of indisposition is behind me, I have dealt with the difficulties, the description of which I shall not bore you with. It worries and troubles me very much what kind of unexpected present you received from Fate that brings you such worries. Although your description of the difficulty – quite understandably – is enigmatic, I will honour you with a visit to get a clearer picture of your problem and possibly the help I could offer._

_Rest assured, my dear friend; I understand your need for discretion. I leave without delay and will meet you on 30 th January at the place which you indicated. Do not worry, Dear friend, I still clearly remember our visit of van Rogh’s marvellous Vernissage which lead us to that location. It goes without saying that I leave in absolute secrecy and with great caution. I will not speculate on the nature of your troubles. I shall try, in so doing, not to appear any worse than other friends to whom you have turned, are turning or usually turn with your supplications. I am, after all, your dear friend. Your valuable friendship is too important to me to disappoint you, dear friend._

_Should you, in the meantime, wish to write to me, do not hesitate for a moment. Your letters invariably give me boundless pleasure._

_Your friend Yennefer_

Geralt reread the letter twice and swore quietly under his breath. Every _dear friend_ felt like a punch to the gut. 

“Well I forked that up, didn’t I?” he said turning toward the little girl starring at him with bright emerald eyes.

“At least she is coming to our aid in a week. It’s something, don’t you think?” Ciri just looked at him and tilted her head, sleepiness was now evident in her eyes.

“You are right no time to dwell on it. We should better ready ourselves for our afternoon nap.”

The two made themselves comfortable on Geralt’s bed, one of the only pieces of furniture he managed to buy up until that point. Ciri, as usual for her afternoon nap, fell asleep in less than five minutes and was drooling onto Geralt’s chest. But the witcher could not rest, although he did feel pretty tired all day. His mind was running wild with thoughts of the sorceress and what she might say to this situation he found himself in.

* * *

_30 th January, Novigrad _

Geralt was at the abandoned warehouse one hour before the agreed-upon time. Ciri luckily fell asleep on the way there and should be out for a few hours, so he could just take her with him and not worry about her interrupting too much. He sat on an old crate and looked at his watch every five minutes.

Geralt smelled her before he could hear a single footstep. He sprang up from his waiting point and tugged on his jacket while turning towards the visitor.

“I always knew you had a flare for the dramatic, witcher. But an abandoned warehouse in the middle of a city full of way nicer places to meet?” the sorceress stopped a few paces before him, putting her hands on her waist. 

The witcher regarded her and could not stop a small smile forming on his lips. It was good seeing her in all her usual glory. Dressed in her typical black and white, her skin back to her natural pale colour and her hair again in the ordered chaos that was her raven black mane. 

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who could not wait to get back to our hotel room and choose this place for a few nice hours. You know I can never resist to revisit such special places.”

“I hate to break it to you, but if you asked me here just to revive some old memories, you and I both will be thoroughly displeased.”

“As much as I would like that this is not why I asked you here. The location is just perfectly suited for a talk in private. You see some weeks ago Mousesack showed up at my doorstep and delivered something to me. Now I have to make sure that nobody followed Mousesack or me. You are the only person who has the contacts and connections to assure that I am just overcautious. Besides, you are also the only one I can trust with this.” 

Yennefer just looked at him with expecting eyes for a few moments before she answered.

“Are you going to tell me what Mousesack delivered that is so special?” 

Geralt took a step back and indicated Yennefer to follow behind the crates he just sat upon. Behind them the sorceress saw a baby seat, with a sleeping infant inside it. Bewildered she looked at Geralt and then back at the baby.

“I though witchers are sterile.”

“We are. It is a long story. You have not by chance heard about the banquet in honour of the betrothal of princess Pavetta the heir to the throne of Cintra?”

“Not more than that instead of one wedding there were two to be planed and that Pavetta’s first child was born suspiciously early after the wedding. Why? What has it got to do with this?”

“Well, long story short, Jaskier and I were at that banquet and I helped to unite Pavetta and her cursed love Duny. He wanted to thank me for it, so I called the law of surprise and just seconds afterwards I and everyone else at the banquet were made aware of the fact that Pavetta was pregnant. Calanthe, of course, did not want to hear anything about a law of surprise or people being bound by destiny and banished me from court. Our dear friend Jaskier- “ 

“Oh no, do not make it sound like I have anything to do with that dimwit. He’s all yours.”

He considered her for a moment, but then continued “Jaskier wrote a lovely article about the whole event, but Calanthe also took care that no newspaper or anyone else reported about the happenings at the banquet.”

“And just months after, the massacre in Cintra occurred.” Yen concluded.

“Exactly. Mousesack managed to get away from it with the child. But he says that if the law of surprise is not honoured greater misfortunes will follow. So, he brought the girl to me and he was also pretty convinced that he was being followed.”

“Ermion really thought that leaving you with an infant was a good idea? Last time we talked about such topics, you did not seem very eager to know anything about children or how to raise them. Do you even know anything about babies at all?” 

Yennefer’s tone was slightly judgmental. But Geralt could not blame her for it. He did speak pretty badly about children the last time they talked about them.

“Not really. I bought a book on babies’ development, but there are so many things it does not even tell you. Ermion left me a notebook with instructions and information but its utility is coming to an end. I can’t even estimate if she is behaving normally for her age or not.”

“How old is she? “

“Mousesack told me she was almost 6 months old, when he dropped her off. Since she has been with me for three weeks now, she might already be 7 months old.”

Yennefer gave him another judgmental glance but decided to not further comment on his lack of knowledge.

“So, what is the plan now?” she asked while looking at the sleeping infant.

“As long as I don’t know if we are being followed or not, I don’t think I can plan ahead too far. That is one reason why I need your help. But, Yen, I am completely out of depth here. Of all the people I know you are the most knowledgeable in these kind of things. You worked with so many mothers and children in your lifetime already and I still need to learn a whole lot. Will you please help us?”

The witcher took the small girl out of the car seat and put her on his chest. Looking at the sorceress with the best puppy eyes he could muster. He knew he was putting it on a bit strongly, but Geralt really needed help and he had no idea who he could turn to other than her.

Yennefer would never admit it out loud, but something tugged at her heart as she regarded the desperate witcher and the little baby at his chest. “I can try. But only to make sure that you both are safe, and you do not accidentally kill the girl. However, I cannot stay all eternity, I do have other things to do.”

The witcher sighed a breath of relive. “Thank you, Yen. I really appreciate this.”

“Let us not dwell on it. Show me the place you are staying so I can estimate how much help your parenting really needs.”

* * *

Geralt did not know what it was, but almost every time the two stepped into the apartment Ciri started to fuzz.

“Welcome to our humble home.” He told the sorceress that was following him into the flat while he put the car seat on the kitchen counter and took out the grouching child.

“Humble? Geralt you do not have furniture!” The sorceress exclaimed while she was looking around the small open space that was supposed to be a kitchen and living room. There were three boxes lying around which looked like they belong to the previous owner and some bags that contained different clothes for babies and some prepacked food. Beside an old couch laid a blanket with some toys and there was a highchair and one single kitchen chair next to the counter Geralt just put the car seat on.

“I have a crib and I have a bed. Although most of the time she sleeps in the bed beside me. And there is also the highchair and a couch, it has been enough for now.”

Yennefer turned around and arched an eyebrow, but the witcher was focused on preparing some food for the child in his arms. 

“Even Kaer Morhen is better furnished then this place.”

“Yes, I know it does not live up to your standards.” The fact that he did not argue back, and his resigned tone made Yennefer pause. It was a testament of his exhaustion and she almost felt bad for him. 

“Can you hold her for a second? I just have to look for a clean bottle.” Geralt asked when the small girl started to fidget in his arms. He put her in Yennefer’s arms without waiting for a reply. 

“Yennefer meet Cirilla. Ciri be nice to Yen.”

Almost immediately the small girl stopped fidgeting and focused on the deep violet eyes of the person holding her. The baby stretched out a hand towards the sorceresses’ face and Yennefer put a finger into the chubby hand reaching for her. Even Yennefer’s delicate fingers seemed enormous in the tiny hand of the infant. Without much further ado the girl took the offered finger and put it in her mouth. Normally the sorceress did not appreciate babies and their bodily fluids all over her, but she could not stop the small smile that was spreading on her lips.

“Be careful, Yen. She does that to you. You are distracted for one tiny moment and she wraps you around her finger without you even noticing.” He took a step closer towards the two and continued with a pensive voice.

“And you start to wonder what on earth could someone want from such an innocent child to start a war and kill thousands of people for it.”

Yennefer smirked at Geralt as he took the baby back to start feeding her. 

“Look at you, three weeks with child and you already become a softy.”

“Hmm” 

Looking at the two the sorceress once again felt that tug at her heart. However, she did not want to think about it too much and changed the subject.

“Wait, what do you mean by starting a war for a child?” 

“Mousesack mentioned that the court got intel shortly before the massacre occurred about some kidnapping plans for the princess. They had no time to look further into it, but he thinks that the massacre and the kidnapping attempt are related. That is also why he is so concerned about possible pursuers.” 

“Okay.” 

The witcher pulled up his eyes towards the sorceress with a questioning look on his face.

“Okay. I will help you and make sure that every possible threat, if there are any, gets eliminated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the following chapters will be shorter. I just wanted to set the scene and it resulted in longer chapters than anticipated.


	3. Chapter 3

_31 st January 1953, Novigrad_

Let it be said that the great sorceress Yennefer of Vengerberg highly valued her sleep. Her usual mourning routine did not ever start before eleven o’clock and if by chance she was up before that point in time, one really would not want to be in her vicinity or worse be the reason why.

However, housing in the same place as a baby such sleeping habits could not sustain. After settling in for the night it only took three hours for Ciri to start crying in the room next door. Only few moments later she heard Geralt getting up and trying to sooth the baby back to sleep.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down princess. I am right here.”

Yennefer had settled in for the night in Geralt’s bed. Although his huge frame did not even fit on the small couch in the living area of the apartment, he insisted that it would be the best sleeping arrangement as Ciri would wake up several times throughout the night and he wouldn’t want to wake up Yennefer every time he needed to go through the living area to get to Ciri’s room. Although, the sorceress could have simply put a silencing spell on Ciri’s room, she did not object to his offer, as both knew that she was way pickier than him regarding their sleeping arrangements. 

“Sh, sh! You know we have a guest staying over, you can’t just cry all night. Believe me, you don’t want to get to know a sleep deprived Yen!” She heard Geralt’s hushed voice through the thin apartment walls and listened silently to his attempts to calm the baby down. After a few minutes he succeeded, and Yennefer easily fell back asleep thinking that the whole ordeal was somewhat cute to listen to.

After the third circle of cries and soothing she quickly revised her initial assertion and put up a soundproofing spell to shield herself from the incessant wails.

* * *

He knew that Yennefer must have heard him during the night, so to appease her probable grimness, the first thing he did in the morning was to go grocery shopping. He prepared a freshly brewed pot of coffee and some pastries from the bakery across the street. 

When Yennefer finally emerged from Geralt’s bedroom at half past eleven she was greeted by Geralt and Ciri playing peak-a-boo at the living room floor. Without asking she immediately headed towards the kitchenette to get herself a cup of coffee.

“There are some pastries on the counter and fresh apple juice in the fridge. I thought you might need them after last night.”, the witcher addressed her from his position on the floor, noticing that she was already dressed for the day and probably on her way out.

“That is very considerate, however, I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to help you, you do not need to compensate every time your ward makes some noise.” Nevertheless, she took a muffin from the counter and started to look for the mentioned apple juice.

“So, what are your plans for the day?” Geralt asked as they had not spoken much the night before. He wasn’t even sure if Yennefer would return for the night or knew of any other plans she might have.

“I think the best thing right now is to do some research, ask around. I will not bore you with the details, but you surely do realise that the brotherhood offers a great source of intelligence. I have to get some information about the whole massacre in Cintra and if there might be possible pursuers on your tail. The sooner you know if there is really someone following you, the sooner we can deal with that situation. And if it turns out that there is nothing to worry about in that regard, you still have to think about what you are going to do with your child surprise. Even you should know that taking babies on monster hunts might not be the best of ideas.”

“Hm” he did know that. Still the last few weeks have rushed by and he did not have much time to really consider anything. Taking Ciri on his contracts would be too dangerous, but Geralt also did not have the heart of leaving her in someone else’s care.

“I will deal with it. One problem at a time, no need to worry our heads about things that might never be a bother. I first have to know if I can step outside this apartment and not have to look over my shoulders every minute. Saying that, I very much appreciate your help.”

Geralt gazed at the sorceress while she was visibly enjoying her apple juice. However, his attention was diverted to the baby in his arms who started to push her chubby fingers into his chin.

“It could take some time before we can be sure that you are not followed or under surveillance. So, I better go now and get the investigation started.” She told him while putting on her jacket and readying herself to leave.

“Yeah, sure.”

He wanted to say more but he did not know how to ask her without seeming to clingy. How long would she be away? Would she stay with them or would she get a hotel room somewhere in the fancier parts of town? Would she be back for dinner?

Just as she reached for the doorknob she turned around and gave him at least one answer to his thoughts.

“I will be back for dinner. However, considering the state of your fridge and my knowledge of your culinary skills I will bring something edible for the two of us.” With that she went on her way and the only thing left of her was the vanishing smell of lilac and gooseberries.

“See what I mean? She knows all my thoughts and still just addresses the one she fancies. Sorceresses I tell you.” The emerald-eyed baby just tilted her head and gave a happy squeak to the witchers lamentations. With that he sat the ashen haired baby back on the floor for another round of peak-a-boo.

* * *

It was almost eight o’clock in the evening when Yennefer returned to the apartment, storming in as if she owned the place.

“You should really invest into a magical lock,” she said as a way of greeting.

“I will be sure to write that down on my list of things to buy.” The witcher replied not pausing in the clean-up of Ciri’s dinner.

“I brought some Lyrian food. Does the little one already sleep?” She started to unpack their dinner onto the small table in the living area of the apartment and it was soon overfilling with packages of steaming food.

“Yeah, went down with a fight as usual for her night routine. But I think she should be out for at least four hours now.” He informed her as he walked towards the table and faltered in his step when he looked upon the picture before him.

Seeing Yennefer in front of a pile of takeout made him reminisce of his time in Vengerberg. Usually she had a gala, an event, or some other important function to attend in the evenings. But on few occasions, she could not have been bothered to go out, the two spend the evenings in their sleepwear eating takeout from Marlene’s, a little restaurant that was not meant to serve the likes of sorcerers and other upper class individuals. It was on those days that he really felt at peace.

He put his thoughts aside and sat on the chair opposite her.

“How was your day? Found anything interesting?” the witcher inquired while he took the first container of food he could reach.

“Well as I told you, I went to go to the headquarters of the brotherhood here in Novigrad. I looked for any possible source of knowledge there and then went to ask around in some less conventional places. If there is anything going on those sources will probably be the first to know. After that I went to the library to update my knowledge on toddlers and what you should consider at which month of their life.”

He swallowed his food before answering, he knew how much she hated bad tableside manners. “That is actually a good idea. Did something attract your attention?”

“Well, mostly I was the one attracting the attention. Reading five different books on toddlers and child education everybody thought I was expecting, and this somehow constitutes as a good enough reason to start up a conversation with a stranger. You cannot imagine how many comments I heard about how I am positively beaming or what I will have to expect in the next weeks.” she sighed in mock exasperation.

The witcher could barely hide his smile, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“One woman even wanted to touch my stomach. The audacity!” she challenged him with an exaggerated stare to disagree with her, ”I mean what is it about pregnant women that everybody thinks it is alright to start a conversation with a complete stranger, or worse touch their stomach. I am not even showing-” and with that her semi-serious rant came to a sudden halt.

The sudden silence made the witcher look up from his plate. Upon looking at her face he realised the one thing he did not consider while asking for Yennefer’s help. In a blink of the eye she masked her expression back to her usual indifferent demeanour.

“I am sorry, Yen.”, it pained him to admit, “I haven’t even though of how hard this might be on you. It has to be a painful reminder to be surrounded by a baby all the time.”

“What?,” the sorceresses challenged him, “You think I am going to sit down and cry just because you are stuck with a child you never wished to have, while I have to live with my circumstances? I hate to break it to you, but life is not fair.”

She took a deep breath and continued with a nonchalant tone, “On the bright site, I will never have to deal with stretchmarks and people touching my stomach.” 

“Yen, you don’t have to hide behind humour for me. I know this can’t be easy for you.” He knew his attempts were futile. He did not even know if he himself wanted to talk about it. But he needed her to know that he was still willing to try if she would ever decide to open up.

The sorceress took another box of takeout and made it clear that the topic was over, “Don’t worry I will stay emotionally detached and I will not project any possible feelings about my issues on the little one. You do not have to stumble awkwardly around the topic. I do not expect anything from you.”

With that an awkward silence arouse at the table. After a few moments passed Geralt started to eat again as well. He knew those tense silences and he also knew that most of the times it was the best thing to stay quiet until Yennefer calmed down.

A few minutes later she was finished with her meal.

“Your baby should soon be starting teething. I bought you some teething rings they should help to relief some of her pain.”, the sorceress told him as she took her empty containers and threw them into the trash.

Before he could even finish his thank you, she retracted into Geralt’s bedroom. He could not help the small smile forming on his lips when he heard the door click shut behind her. Maybe it wasn’t the worst decision to ask Yennefer for help. Despite everything.

* * *

The days continued much like this. Yennefer went out, did research or other tasks she had to fulfil as a sorceress of the brotherhood, while Geralt tried to entertain Ciri for the day and not attract any attention in the few instances that they did leave the apartment. In the evenings Yennefer would more often than not, bring dinner and then either go back to her newly acclaimed room or to some important meeting in the city.

It was the eighth day of her stay when she decided she had enough. She was on her way to the bathroom, but she stopped in the living area. The picture in front of her was pathetic. Yennefer of Vengerberg was known to be cold and detached and she did not mind that image of herself. However, she was not cruel and seeing this almost every day and not doing something about it seemed very cruel.

Adding to the usual picture of a way too big witcher trying to find room on a tiny couch, there was a small toddler claiming two thirds of it. Not that the child needed that much room, but it looked like the witcher tried to make sure he would not squeeze Ciri in his sleep and also ensure that she would not fall off.

It resulted in the witcher being bent around the sleeping baby in an unnatural position and stabilising it by putting one leg and one arm over the backrest of the couch, his remaining limbs securing the position against the armrests. He was balancing himself on the outer edge of the seat cushion and was millimetres away from falling on the floor. It looked painful, even for a witcher that is used to bad sleeping conditions.

She needed to make an end to this sleeping ill-treatment. But first she had to go to the toilet.

“Put your pants on. We are going shopping.” He instantly woke up and was greeted by violet eyes looking down on his form. Beside him small limbs started to fuzz, and he soon smelled that his assistance was needed.

“What do you want?”, he answered while he picked up the baby and turned to change her diaper.

Yennefer was already standing in the kitchen and trying to start the coffee-maker, “It is not that much of what I want, but what your back needs. We need to buy you something better to sleep on. The little one is only growing bigger and soon there will be no room for you on that couch at all.” She finally succeeded with finding the right button and turned around to where the witcher was picking up clothes for Ciri and himself.

“I don’t need a bigger couch and besides I don’t want to spend extra money if we don’t know how long we can stay here.”, he answered while struggling with Ciri trying to escape his reach.

“No, I will not tolerate any excuses on that matter. My back hurts every time I merely look at you in those miserable poses. If you do not want to have a say in it, you can stay here. I will, however, buy you something of my taste and you will have to live with it.”

“You are looking at me while I sleep?”, the witcher asked wriggling his eyebrow.

Of course, that was the point he focused on and she had to make an effort to not roll her eyes.

“Do not flatter yourself, it is like a train wreck. You just cannot look away.” She deadpanned.

Geralt still smiled at her and mischievously fake-whispered into Ciri’s ear. “You hear that? She watches us while we are sleeping. I’m telling you; we are living with a creep.”

* * *

“I like this one” the witcher said as he looked at the couch in front of him.

Yennefer could not stop the sigh escaping her mouth, “You said that about every piece of furniture you have seen so far.”

“In my defence, I do not think this is necessary and we have already been to two furniture stores.”, the witcher replied as if that would excuse his indecisiveness.

She took a few steps further in to the store, “We are not having the same discussion again. And this one is way too small for you.”

As if sensing their need of professional help, a salesmen came up to them and offered his assistance.

Without giving him any time to present the store’s current offers, the sorceress started to list all her preferences without any consultations with Geralt, “So, we need a couch that is big enough for those two to comfortably sleep on. Preferably not leather and easily cleanable. My colour of choice would be black, but anything you got in a darker colour palette should be fine. It would be nice-”

“Yen don’t overwhelm the boy”, he stopped the listing of her requirements. Regarding the salesmen Geralt continued, “Anything that is big enough for me to sleep on and won’t cost a fortune is fine.”

Unaffected by the bickering of the couple in front of him the young salesman started to present the stores offering, “We actually have a few examples that might be close to what you are thinking off. You can even try them out on the second floor if you’d like to.”

He turned to lead the way but was stopped by the melodical voice of the raven-haired woman.

“Geralt, would you go ahead and test them out. I will just talk with this lovely man- “, she had already forgotten his name, but he was mindful enough to provide it once more at the right time.

“Peter”

“With Peter about shipping arrangements.”

The witcher glanced at her sceptically but did not comment on it. He went for the stairs and as soon as he was out of earshot – witcher earshot, not human distances – she turned to Peter the salesman.

“If the gentleman will decide on one of your furniture pieces, I want it delivered to a given address no latter then tomorrow by the most responsible and trustworthy people you can arrange. I understand that you might have recognized my face or at least have some idea about my identity and thus I expect your uttermost discretion. But more importantly whatever the price of the furniture he might choose is, tell him that it cost no more than five hundred crowns. Everything above this amount I will pay without him knowing about this arrangement. Do we have an understanding?”

The salesmen nodded vigorously. He heard about the amounts of money sorcerers were willing to pay for good service, “Of course Lady Yennefer, I will personally make sure that everything will go along with your expectations.”

As soon as she stepped onto the second floor Yennefer saw Geralt and Ciri sitting on the couch that looked most like the one she described earlier. She heard Ciri’s delightful squeals as the witcher was blowing raspberries onto the toddler’s belly.

“So, what do you think?” she asked as she stopped in front of the pair.

The witcher raised his eyebrow, not pausing in the games with the toddler, “Now you care about my opinion?”

“Well, it is your back that has to lie on it every day, you should at least have a say in it. Did you already lie on it?” the sorceress asked, as she was sure he did nothing more than sit on it in the time that she was away.

He wanted to protest, but as he looked upon her face and saw her serious expression, he decided against any form of disagreeing and laid down on the couch, Ciri resting peacefully on his chest.

“And what know? Should I also jump on it?”, he asked only half-jokingly, not really sure about what to do.

“Do whatever your heart desires, as long as you are certain that this one will be the one you want to sleep on for the foreseeable future”, the sorceress replied indifferently.

“Well since you are such an expert, we might need your help.” Before the sorceress could comprehend what he was saying with his playful tone, he took her arm and pulled her down next to him and the toddler.

“Geralt!”, she shrieked indignantly. But the only reply she got was a chuckle from the witcher and a happy gurgle from the baby on his chest. 

She wanted to stand up as soon as she got her bearings, but the emerald eyes of the happy baby beside her stopped her in her tracks. She remained in the witcher’s embrace until the chuckle beside her ceased. 

“What does the expert say? Is it good enough for an old witcher’s back? Is the cushioning to hard or to soft?” he mockingly asked for her opinion.

Her reply came in an unnaturally soft husk, “It is nice.”

He looked down at her gazing at the stunning eyes of the toddler on his chest and at once became aware of their position, and that he has not been this close to her in three years. His heart leaped into his throat and he did not know if he wanted to leave this situation as soon as possible or stay in the moment for ever.

He cleared his throat and sat up after a few long seconds.

“I think so too. So, let’s hope it does not cost more than the whole apartment.”, the witcher joked lightly, as he rose from the couch. Reaching out his hand to a slightly dazed sorceress, he looked for the salesmen, he swore he had seen mere seconds ago.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the delay in updates. I know it has been quite some time and I truly hope the next chapter will be up sooner. But you know how chaotic life can be sometimes and I am also not 100% satisfied with my writings right now... so I will just put this here and hope you can still enjoy it.

_27 th February 1953, Novigrad_

“Oh, for Melitele’s sake just say it!”, she said slightly annoyed without looking up from the grimoire she read.

He balled his fist under the table, “Are you reading my mind again?”

“I do not have to.”, she said without looking at him, “The last days you have been just as fuzzy as the little one when she got her first teeth. I am actually impressed that it took you so long before you got stir-crazy. I thought that I would hear your usual justifications way earlier _. I have to be on the path, the path is the only thing in a witcher’s life_ ” she mockingly imitated his voice.

“I am not saying I want to return to the path. I know that there is no possible way to do this right now. But I need to leave this apartment. I need to take on some contracts and make at least some money. But I can’t just take Ciri with me. Especially as we still don’t know if there is anything to worry about being followed or not.” He answered her irritation clear in his voice.

“Well then go out and look for some contract you can finish in a few hours and come back.”

The witcher did not say a word, just disbelievingly looked at the sorceress. After some moments of silence, the raven-haired sorceress finally looked up from her reading and directed her glance towards the witcher sitting opposite her.

“Don’t look that suspicious.” She said almost offended.

“You have barely even touched her and never engaged with her on your own accord. Suddenly you are offering to babysit her for several hours. Sorry for being a little bit suspicious.”

“Just because I choose not to engage with the toddler, it does not mean that I do not know how to handle one.”, she challenged him.

“I am not questioning your capabilities. I am asking myself why?”, he still could not shake his suspicions.

“Well for one, you have asked for my help and I agreed. You deserve some time for you to do whatever you want. You have diligently looked after your ward for two months now and had barely time to shave or do anything else for yourself. A nice contract with some slicing of drowners will do you good and you can finally get out of this tiny apartment for more than a few minutes.”, she explained to him as if it would be the most logical thing in the world.

Geralt wanted to protest, but she was right. He did not want to leave Ciri behind, but he needed some time to do things that did not involve changing diapers and playing peak-a-boo for the hundredth time.

_28 th February 1953, Novigrad_

“You sure it will be ok?”, he asked while turning around for the third time. He had his gear secured and was standing in front of the door for ten minutes already.

“Everything will be fine. And you have the crystal I gave you in your pocket. If anything should happen, which it will not, you will immediately know.”, she positioned the toddler on her hips, while trying to turn the witcher around. “But nothing will happen. So, keep your head in the game. I do not want to be tending to an injured and winey baby, while also caring for a toddler.” She said as a small but mischievous smile stretched on her lips.

He turned around one last time to place a kiss on Ciri’s cheek.

“Be nice and behave!”, he told the small girl as if she would understand and then turned to the woman holding her, “And if anything should come up, you let me know immediately!”

The sorceress rolled her eyes. She could not decide whether the witcher’s worry was annoying or rather somewhat cute. “I will and now go. I heard they might need a witcher at the docks and if it should take longer than until sunrise, let me know.”

“I will.”, with that Geralt finally opened the apartment door with a weary heart and left for the first witcher work in months. Behind him he could hear a barely audible _“Be careful_ ”, but he was not sure if she even intended it for him to hear.

When the door clicked shut Yennefer glanced at the little girl in her hands.

“Alone at last.”

As an answer the little girl showed the sorceress her two teeth while making happy noises and snuggling into her shoulder. It made her heart ache a little bit and just holding the baby made her feel things she was not willing to acknowledge. So, she decided that the girl was content enough to put her on the playing blanket, while she read some research next to her on the couch.

But the article could not hold the sorceress’s attention. She peeked over the papers every other minute and could not concentrate on a single sentence. The little girl on the other hand had no problems entertaining herself. She happily wiggled her feet and arms in the air and occasionally put one or the other into her mouth. When the baby girl realized that she was being watched she let out a high happy squeal. But as Yennefer did not show any intention of joining her on the blanket, her happy squeals started to turn into sad sobs. They became so desperate that the sorceress showed mercy and picked the girl up.

“What now? I know you cannot be hungry, and your diaper is fresh. The only thing I can offer you is some attention.”, but it seemed to be enough for the little girl in her arms. Her sobs became quieter and she started to calm down again.

“Entertainment it is then.”, she sat them back down on the couch, “So, I heard you are a big fan of peak-a-boo.”

With every round of peaking and booing the toddler got happier again and when Yennefer switched to blowing raspberries on her belly the child’s laughter was so contagious that even the sorceress could not stop smiling.

* * *

Everything went down well until the evening came to the point at which the girl’s night-time routine should have started. After her dinner, the toddler suddenly realized Geralt’s absence for a suspiciously long period of time and that he still was nowhere in sight. From that moment on her cries started to intensify and did not want to cease.

It took half an hour of continuous crying for Yennefer to relent and look into Mousesack’s notebook for possible advice on how to calm the toddler down.

“I have to say I liked you better when you were your joyous self. Now let us see what your uncle Mousesack wrote.”, she calmly recounted to the toddler she was rocking on her hips.

She needed to flip through a number of pages to finally come to a passage that might provide guidance.

 _“There are nights when the dear princess Cirilla falls asleep as easily as an exhausted farmhand after a long day of harvest. However, more often than not, the process of getting the princes to sleep is accompanied by wailings from both attending parties and can take up to a few hours to reach the point of exhaustion for sleep to take over.”,_ she stopped her reading to address the weeping girl in her arms directly.

“So, you are at least not only making this hard for me. I guess I should be relieved.” And although the comment was intended to be snarky, the sorceress truly was relieved to affirm that she was not the sole reason for the child’s crying.

“ _’After some time of studying the young princess’s behaviour I have now concluded that there are several methods that calm the princess down and subsequently can help to elicit sleep. In the following they are listed from the most to the least effective:_

 _Queen Calanthe’s and King Eist’s first gift to princess Cirilla is key for this method. The plush lioness should be handled with care as it reminds the young princess of her lost home Cintra. I find that effects of either monotone recounting of the greatest heroics of late Queen Calanthe or the colourful narration of ‘The adventures of the lion who could not count to three’ as most result-producing. If you choose to succeed with the later stories, it is of utmost importance to use different voices and sounds, while recounting to keep the princes engaged long enough to stop the (most probably present) cries.’_ Is he serious? That cannot be the most effective way to get you to calm down, can it?”, she asked the toddler without expecting an answer.

Nevertheless, she went to get the plush lioness out of the child’s crib and started to evenly recount everything she knew about Queen Calanthe. But the toddler’s cry only grew louder. The sorceress would deny it till the day she died but she started with the second approach. She tried out different voices for the different animals in the story of ‘The lion who could not count to three’. And although she did present the toddler a great performance, the wails did not stop. As a result, she turned back to Mousesack’s notebook and read the second method to the small child.

 _“’If the first approach did not result in the desired tiring of her highness princess Cirilla, another method to calm her down proved to be the slow to moderately fast sway in a three-quarter time, always angling the leading foot in an 45 degree angle away from the person’s viewpoint interspersed with non-rotating change steps to adapt to the direction of the turning. A melody is not required, simple counting of the rhythm usually suffices. An additional light bobbing of the child while executing the described movements has proven to be beneficial in this approach.’_ Why doesn’t he just say waltzing? Does he not want anyone imagining him dancing with an infant? This at least sounds more promising than the last approach.”, Yennefer said to no one in particular.

The sorceresses started her dance and after only a few moments the toddler’s cries did subside. She continued her dancing until the little girl started to close her eyes slowly. As she was about to put the child into the crib, the tired green eyes suddenly shot up and the wails started to get louder again. However, this time the toddler refused to calm down, leaving the sorceress to try yet another of Mousesack’s method.

_“’This method requires a certain aptitude to magic. For this, one can put princess Cirilla on her back in the sleeping place -to not rouse her again when putting the child into her bed after she falls asleep. This approach requires the conjuring of several small light spheres (around 4 centimetres in diameter) that move in a relaxing way approximately 50 centimetres above the princess’s head. It is important to note that the spheres should not be too bright or accompanied by too loud noises. A good number of spheres seems to be between seven and ten. Best suited colours were concluded to be ones that did not have strong red undertones in it for instance, aquamarine blue, emerald green or lemon yellow.”_

Without commenting the approach, the sorceress put the child into her crib and gave her a teething ring for good measure. She put a chair next to the crib, sat down and started to conjure the described spheres above the toddler’s head, but the screams did not stop. The toddler barely even showed any reaction to the magic trick at all. At that point, the possibility of enchanting the toddler came to her mind, but just as fast as the thought appeared, she dismissed it. She knew Geralt would be furious if she just enchanted the baby into compliance instead of taking care of her in a traditional way. After all it was her idea to look after the child.

With a resigned sigh she took the baby girl into her arms and tried to calm her with soothing noises on her way back into the living area where Mousesack’s notebook lied on the kitchen table. _Time for another of these stupid approaches_ , she thought as she turned the page of the notebook. However, the next entry was written in Geralt’s unmistakable script. His entry was a perfect reflection of her own current state of mind and she almost had to laugh at the irony. There was a big arrow that pointed to the last pages and underneath one could barely decipher the words “THESE DO NOT WORK”. It seemed that all of Geralt’s frustrations and hardships were poured into that one sentence.

Even so it was not the last entry and Yennefer hoped to find at least one helpful advice next. The last entry was written in a more readable and calm manner, but it offered no more help than anything she read so far. It just read: “Still in the process of finding better solutions”

Yennefer started to truly feel the frustration and defeat gnarling at her, as she looked at the tears streaked face of the little girl in her hands. Although she did not know what she could do next, she was determined to make this misery stop. She survived Sodden and all its consequences, she would not be defeated now by a crying baby. Without thinking much of it she opened her mouth and started to sing.

It seemed that both Yennefer and the baby were surprised at the sudden unusual sound coming from the sorceress’s mouth. The wailing came to a sudden halt and emerald eyes focused on the red coloured lips where the sound was coming from. She put the toddler back into her crib, humming a melody while sitting in the chair next to her.

The sorceress did not recognize the melody but the longer she hummed the tune, more and more words came back to her memory. Although she never used her vocal cords for singing, she started singing the lyrics to a lullaby she thought she had long forgotten. Encased by the soothing melody and the gentle words the toddler soon fell asleep not realizing the emotional turmoil of the person singing the lullaby to her.

It took Yennefer one verse of the lullaby to remember where she knew it from. But she still sung all the way to the end of the song because she saw that the child was finally able to calm down enough to fall asleep. When she sang the final note, the baby was sound asleep, but Yennefer was unable to move and leave her thoughts behind.

The realization about the song hit her like a lightning on a sunny day. Without forewarning and at full force. She at once remembered a time where she felt save, even in the gruesome circumstances she grew up in. It was the lullaby her mother used to sing to her. No, not her mother, but the woman that gave birth to her. She remembered when that woman was her safe haven. When her farther beat her already stiff and aching back with a belt and left her on the floor to compose herself again and get back to a work she had previously not done to his satisfaction. She remembered the times when she was not able to stand back up. How when he was gone that woman sat down next to her and took her into her arms. She pressed her broken child close to her chest and sang that lullaby to help soothe the pain.

But nothing good ever lasted forever. Her solace was taken away when her father packed his things and left. Not knowing how to deal with the situation the woman turned her desperation and fear against her daughter. As a punishment for being the reason of her husband’s abandonment she deprived the girl of any touch that was not caused by bursts of violence. Not understanding why that was happening the girl always tried to be better, do better, be a good girl. But nothing helped. Her saviour turned into her tormentor and she had not heard the melody ever since.

She remembered the small girl that worked till the blisters on her hands turned bloody. How she tried to behave like an adult not a child. She would pray every evening for their harvest to bring in a high yield, that her father would return and with him the woman she once knew as her mother. In the end all the girl’s efforts were for nought. On a rainy April day, the woman ultimately gave her away for four marks. No promises, no wailing could change that woman’s mind. She was given away for four marks. Four marks which would not even pay for a pig. Four marks that she would remember every time she looked at her wrists.

A small sigh pulled her out of her reverie. However, the toddler did not wake up again. Still, the sorceress put her hand between the bars of the crib and took the small girl’s hand into hers. She needed to feel her to assure the girl was alright. Holding on to the baby’s hand brought her back to the present. It let her focus on something real, something that was not just a spectre of a past long lost.

As the toddler tightened her grasp around the sorceress’s finger, also the vice grip around her heart seemed to tighten. Yennefer let her head fall against the crib and for a long time just watched the sleeping baby. She did not want to be like that woman. She did not want to make the child feel as broken as she had felt. She would rather stay cold and distant before this child had to suffer from the fallout of the mess that was Geralt’s and her relationship. She knew that it hurt that much more to experience cruelty from somebody that once claimed to love you, in comparison to only knowing coldness from the beginning. She would not bring such sorrow upon Geralt’s child of destiny.

_28 th February, early morning, Novigrad_

When he entered the apartment, all lights were still turned on, but he did not see the two ladies he left behind just a few hours ago. Not wanting to disturb in case they were sleeping he carefully put his swords and guns on the kitchen counter and made his way towards Ciri’s room. The picture that greeted him as he opened the door made him falter in his step.

Ciri was sleeping peacefully in her crib, while Yennefer crouched on the kitchen chair next to her, sleeping with her head leant against the crib. The position did not look comfortable, still the sorceress did not let go of the child’s hand, even as sleep had taken over. As neither of both woke up when he made his way toward them, he decided to carry the sorceress into the bed, knowing that her back would trouble her if she stayed in such a position too long.

She never told him this, but he knew that the magical straightening of her spine did not take away all the damage and that she would often wake up with backpain when she had to sleep on hard surfaces. When they travelled together, she always insisted on sleeping in a bed, though never elaborating on the reason why. He would not complain too much as he also preferred a bed to the hard soils he usually had to sleep on, but he never mentioned that he knew why she was so persistent.

The witcher carefully untangled the sorceress from the crib and picked her up in his arms. He could hear by her breathing that she did not wake up, however, she subconsciously snuggled into his shoulder and he needed to take a moment before he started to walk to the bedroom. Gently he placed her in the bed and put her eiderdown over her shoulder. He had no memory of when she brought it back to this apartment, but as he looked up, he noticed that the room now inhabited many of her things that were not there just some weeks ago. But her possessions could not hold his attention for long. His focus soon shifted back to the sorceress sleeping in the bed.

The moment he lost the contact of her skin against his, he missed it again. She looked so small and fragile in her sleeping state. Although she was sound asleep, the scowl on her face let him know of her troubled mind. If she would have been awake, he probably would never know that something was worrying her. But sleep did not allow her to hold on to the iron grip she had on showing her emotions. Looking at her mop of black locks the witcher longed for nothing more than to sleep by her side and hold her in his arms. Taking away the trouble that plagued her mind.

But it was not his place anymore. If it ever had been. In that moment he was not sure if he could ever give her the thing she wanted, the thing she needed. He had not been able to give her what she wanted in Aedd Gynvael, he had not been able to say anything at Beltane, he had been too scared to stay in Aretuza. And still she came. When he asked for help, she came to him and stayed. Yet, the sorceress did not give him any signs that she would like to rekindle their relationship. Geralt knew he was a coward. But if he could have her near him, this situation would always be better than not having her by his side at all.

He was about to tuck a loose curl behind her ear but stopped midway. He stood up and turned the bedside table lamp on, before leaving the room.

  
  



End file.
